


Morning Delights

by elrhiarhodan



Series: The Wonder(ful) Years Verse [38]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Cronuts, Domesticity, M/M, Playing with Canon, alternative universe, coffee porn, marital schmoop, wonder(ful) years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: Just a little marital schmoop (with coffee and pastries) for Peter and Neal in the Wonder(ful) Years.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/gifts).



> A/N: For my very dearest, very talented, very wonderful friend, [](http://kanarkek13.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kanarkek13.livejournal.com/)**kanarkek13** , on the occasion of her birthday (just a wee bit late).

 

Peter blinked against the unfamiliar morning light and as he opened his eyes, he remembered.

_Praia_.

They'd had a seven hour flight to Lisbon with an overnight layover. Neal, of course, insisted on first class all the way, which meant a private car from the airport to the Four Seasons and then a private charter to Praia.

At fifty-three and the victim of more than a quarter-century of economy class flights – the government didn't permit upgrades – Peter couldn't find any reason to argue against the luxury. Nor could he still dig up any angst about Neal's vast wealth. Vincent Adler had been dead for more than three decades and all of his holdings had long since been liquidated. The money Neal had (or as Neal would insist, _they_ had), was earned through Neal's own business savvy. The taint from Adler had been wiped clean.

So, why not spend it on themselves? Why not take a vacation and celebrate their anniversary in style?

But Peter had asked, "Why Cape Verde?"

"Other than its lack of an extradition treaty with the U.S.?" Neal had looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup, wickedness in his eyes.

Peter had laughed. "So, now we're a pair of criminals on the run?"

"Or I could be the criminal? You could be the big, bad FBI agent tracking me down." Neal's smirk was almost unbearably sexy. "Maybe I'm a world-renown forger and you've been on my tail for three years. But you've never been able to catch me."

"Hate to tell you, but I _am_ a big, bad FBI agent. And so are you. And between us, we've put away our fair share of world-renown forgers."

"That we have."

"But you haven't answered my question. Why Cape Verde? It's not exactly a mecca for art and culture."

Neal had shrugged. "We both need some time away, some place where we can pack away the cell phones and leave the laptops behind. Someplace off the beaten path. Praia's easy enough to get to, but not so popular that we'd get caught up in crowds of tourists."

Peter had pretended to shudder. "You want us to _unplug_."

"Exactly."

The truth was that Peter was in favor of doing exactly that. Over the last few years, with the exclusion of their honeymoon, they'd rarely been able to take a vacation without some kind of interruption. The house in Vermont had been a bit of a tech-free sanctuary until the phone company had upgraded the cell tower in town and along the highways, giving them four bars of signal strength and high-speed Internet access. All of the Caribbean was fully wired and the same could be said for Europe and Asia.

Being able to tell the brass that they were fully out of range for the duration of their vacation was a heady and powerful feeling. Last night, when they'd arrived at the villa they were renting for the next two weeks, both Peter and Neal had checked their phones and grinned at each other when their respective connection status bars said "no service".

The morning light was gentle, the breeze coming through the open window was deliciously tropical, and Peter could hear the muted crash of the Atlantic Ocean against the beach a dozen yards away.

He couldn't remember the last time they'd taken a real beach vacation – it had been decades. There was the very memorable Spring Break during their freshman year at Harvard, when they'd taking turns popping each other's cherry. Thirty-three years later and Neal still ragged him about coming too soon. There was also the Spring Break trip to Vero Beach during their junior year, the year that Moz and Elizabeth became "exclusive". And then there was the disaster of Fire Island, when Neal barely had the chance to enjoy the beachfront cottage they'd rented.

Of course he and Neal had traveled often – taking long sight-seeing vacations through the U.S. and when they left the country, their vacation destinations always seem to be somewhere in Europe, a chateau in the Loire, a villa in Tuscany, a pied-a-terre in London. Interesting places with interesting things to do, because neither of them truly enjoyed being lazy for long stretches of time. That was what the cabin in Vermont was for – a getaway for the long weekends.

"You're thinking too loud." Neal rolled over and draped himself across Peter.

"Sorry – did my thoughts wake you?"

"Mmm, not really. Been lying here for a while and just appreciating the peacefulness. When was the last time we took a long vacation and did nothing?"

"I was just thinking the same thing – maybe that trip to Vero Beach with El and Moz?"

"Probably. The Fire Island trip had been a total bust – remember?"

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, you'd spent most of the time in Manhattan."

"Bar review and then the firm put me to work. I think I spent about five nights with you on that so-called vacation."

Peter pulled Neal into his arms. "Feels like yesterday, feels like a lifetime ago."

"Yeah. We're not so different, are we?"

"Well, we're not ABM anymore." Peter couldn't believe he remembered that acronym.

"ABM – all but married. Nope, we're definitely married." Neal held his had up, admiring the wedding band that Peter had put on his finger two years before.

The conversation lapsed into silence, and from Neal's deep, steady breathing, Peter knew his husband had fallen back to sleep. Which wasn't a bad thing. He might have joined Neal in the land of Nod, but his stomach sent out a reminder that it had about twelve hours since he'd last eaten.

Peter eased himself out from under Neal, tucking a pillow into his husband's arms when Neal reached for him, and headed to the bathroom.

After nearly eighteen hours in transit, Peter had been too tired to appreciate just how luxurious their villa was. The bathroom attached to the master suite had a near panoramic view of the ocean. He showered and wrapped himself in one of the terry cloth robes that were provided for guests and went in search of the kitchen. He found it and it was, naturally, fully stocked.

There was also an espresso machine, and Peter was delighted to see that it was the same model as the one they had at home - which meant he could make coffee without it turning into a disaster. Peter chuckled to himself, thinking, what was a morning without coffee?

_Unbearable._

There was also a selection of breakfast pastries under a glass cloche, but sadly, no cronuts for Neal – his husband's one true culinary weakness.

But there was _pain a chocolat_ , which would have to suffice.

Coffee made and pastry sourced, Peter found a tray and took everything back to the bedroom. Neal was still asleep, still hugging the pillow. Although they had nothing on the agenda for the next fifteen days, it was close to eleven and he knew that Neal wouldn't really want to sleep the day away.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed, drifting the cup of espresso underneath Neal's nose, knowing the scent of freshly brewed coffee will wake him up. And it did. Neal's eyelashes flutter and open, those incredibly eyes are momentarily clouded with confusion, but clear soon enough.

"Good … morning?"

"Yes, good morning still works."

Neal sat up and took the coffee cup from Peter's hands and sipped cautiously, knowing just how inconsistent Peter's coffee-brewing skills were. Then sipped again. "Thank you."

Peter produced the plate with the pastry, which Neal devoured in a few neat bites.

Peter took the dish and asked, "Ready to face a day filled with lazing around on the beach?"

"As opposed to lazing about on the patio?"

"We can do that, too."

Neal gave Peter a look. No, he gave Peter the _Look_ , the one that always signaled trouble and delight. He grabbed the belt on Peter's bathroom and gave it a gentle tug. "Or we could just spend the day in bed, _not_ being lazy?"

Peter licked his lips as arousal began to shimmer in his veins. "I think that's the best plan of all."

__

FIN


End file.
